


End of Line

by SorchaCahill



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-27
Updated: 2011-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:13:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorchaCahill/pseuds/SorchaCahill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With so many threats surrounding her, it can be easy to overlook one, especially when you thought the matter was resolved. Some Fem!Cousland/Alistair angst. Rated for graphic content in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t entirely pleased with how the game left the whole Crow assassination side plot, so this is my expansion of that part of the game. Be warned, there’s a bit of sappiness in this chapter, but it gets quite a bit darker later on.

“What are your intentions?”

Adrya raised her head, pausing as she sharpened her daggers. Wynne stood over her, arms crossed, a stern frown marring her features. Carefully setting the sharpening stone and her dagger aside, Adrya matched the older woman’s gaze, willing herself not to falter. She was big enough to admit, at least to herself, that Wynne somewhat intimidated her.

“In regards to what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me young lady, you know what I mean. What are your intentions toward Alistair?”

“I don’t see how it is any business of yours.” In her head, Adrya added _you old hag_ , but knew better than to speak the words out loud. She preferred to not be set on fire, a condition she seemed to find herself constantly teetering on the edge with the mage. “What Alistair and I do on our downtime is our business and _private_.”

“You two are the last Grey Wardens in Fereldan and you have responsibilities. Idle distractions cannot be afforded.”

“I know my duty, Wynne, and so does Alistair. We will do what Fereldan requires of us.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of the heart, Adrya, especially one so new to such affairs. People get hurt, and my silvers are on Alistair.”

Adrya surged to her feet, hands balled into fists as rage sifted through her.

“I would _never_ do anything to hurt Alistair. He’s saved me more times that I can count, even from myself. I love him, and I won’t, I won’t have you-.”

The triumphant gleam in Wynne’s eyes made her feel small and tore a bit at her heart. She could barely admit it to herself, but, she did, she did love him. She hadn’t said the words to him, but he knew, he had to know.

He did, didn’t he?

Her certainty wavered, buckling her knees beneath her as she sat heavily on the bench she had recently vacated.

“Ah, I see that vulnerability lies on both sides. Hmm, interesting. Interesting and troubling. Take it from one who knows, child. Our time in this world is finite, and while we should grab at what happiness we can, we mustn’t forget our responsibilities.”

“What is that suppose to mean?”

“It means, that if we should succeed and the archdemon is defeated, Alistair’s responsibilities will only grow, not diminish. Bastard or not, he is King Maric’s sole surviving heir, and with that, he will have a country to run and to produce an heir himself. Something, I am told, that is nigh impossible for a Warden to do, much less two.”

“Go away, Wynne. Now.”

“Love can carry you only so far, young lady, especially if it’s not shared. You haven’t told him, have you?”

Adrya shook her head, staring down at her hands. To her horror, she felt the beginning of tears well up in her eyes. A part of her, a large part, hated Wynne for revealing the fears she held deep within her but she couldn’t deny the truth in the older woman’s words.

Alistair would need an heir and that was something no matter how hard they tried that she could not provide.

“There are no words of solace that I can bring you, child, I can only show you the truth of things.”

“The only truth you bring is pain, no? You bring her sorrow and taint the love she feels. Love is a precious thing and should not be tampered with.”

Adrya dared to look up and saw Leliana’s somber face before her. Her friend squatted before her, her green eyes full of compassion. She laid her roughened palm against Adrya’s cheek, her thumb catching an errant tear that had dared to escape. The bard, no matter how mad she appeared at times, was always a true friend to her and now was no different.

“I do not say this to be cruel. To keep the truth from her would be cruel.”

“What you did was cruel, Wynne, and you did it in public, which makes it even more so."

The sharp bark of laughter from across the inn’s common room broke the illusion of privacy their conversation had had. Their companions sat at one of the tables, consumed by a game of Wicked Grace and tankards of ale. None showed that they were aware of the interplay between the women.

“Do not talk about me as if I’m not here. My heart may be aching, but my ears work just fine.”

“I stand by what I said. Now that you’ve acknowledged how deep your feelings run for Alistair you must decide what to do about it.”

“Who are you to say so? Because you’re a mage? Because you’re so much older and wiser than me?”

“Ah, there’s the fire I've come to expect from you. For a moment there I feared that your feelings for Alistair had made you soft. Much depends on you.”

“Thanks for that. No pressure. Great.”

“You need to listen, young lady.”

“And you need to stop acting like some disapproving grandmother. You are not my grandmother, not my family. My family is dead,” Adrya growled bitterly. This conversation was going nowhere and was only serving to make her feel more miserable than she already was.

“But you do have a family, Adrya. We may not be blood but we are family nevertheless, yes? I think of you as a sister and it pains me to see you hurting.” Leliana paused at this, glaring at Wynne. “Why don’t we do some shopping and get your mind off these troubles.”

Adrya groaned. “Leliana, you _know_ I don’t like shopping.”

“To a tavern then. Am I right in thinking that you do not wish Alistair to see you so? Wicked Grace will only keep him occupied for so long. You know how quickly he looses.”

Adrya groaned and chanced a look over to the table where the rest of her companions sat. Sure enough, Alistair wore the disgruntled look he always got on his face when he was loosing. When was he going to learn to never play against Zevran?

“You will cover for us, yes?”

Wynne sighed, reluctantly nodding her assent. “I don't see the logic in doing this but fine, I will cover your escape.”

Adrya nodded mutely as she let Leliana tug her to her feet and push her out the inn’s door. The last thing she saw before the door closed was Alistair’s head scanning the common room, ostensibly looking for her, and she counted herself lucky that he hadn’t seen her leave. She loved him but she didn’t think that she could deal with him at the moment.

Wynne stood up, blocking Leliana’s and Adrya’s exit from the party’s gaze. Alistair was fiddling with his last silver, making ready to throw it all in. Sure enough, as she approached, he threw his cards on the table and tossed his hands up in the air.

“I surrender. I’m stopping now before I loose my smalls.”

“I shall count myself lucky then, as that is a sight I never wish to see.”

“Speak for yourself, Morrigan. Please, continue playing my friend.”

“Ah, thanks, but I think I’ll pass on that. Go find the others, and, um, check our weapons, or something. Oh look, it’s Wynne. She can take my place.”

“Dear boy, whatever makes you think that such would interest me?”

“The twenty silvers you skimmed off me last week.”

Wynne chuckled softly as she sat down. “I suppose that would indicate an interest.”

“Well, since that’s settled—where are Adrya and Leliana? They were here a moment ago.”

“They went out,” Wynne stated simply.

“Out? What do you mean out?”

“As in they left the inn. What other meaning could there be?”

“They know we need an early start in the morning, why would they leave?”

“Perhaps our dear Warden has come to her senses and realized that she can do better than the King of Cheese here and went off in search of an improvement.”

“Oh, stuff it, Morrigan. Denerim’s not exactly the safest place for Adrya, for any of us, but especially her. Howe has an estate here, and not to mention there’s Loghain. None of us should wander about on our own.”

“She not exactly helpless, Alistair, nor is she alone. Now are you going to play? Because if not, you’re taking up space.”

Alistair shifted back in his chair and picked up the cards Zevran had dealt him. He listened with a half-ear as his companions bantered back and forth. Zevran boasted about his past exploits as Morrigan rolled her eyes. Normally Alistair would fully take part but his attention was divided. He couldn’t help but worry about Adrya’s sudden disappearance. Something was not right, he could feel it.

As Oghren tipped over backwards off the bench, piss-drunk from the amount of ale imbibed, Alistair resolved that if Adrya had not returned within an hour he would go out and find her and bring her back. The group needed their leader, he lied to himself, knowing that it was a half-truth.

In truth, he needed her.

Wynne watched Alistair with shrewd eyes as he brooded into his ale and how his body tensed each time the door opened. If she knew him, and Wynne was pretty sure that she did, the boy would be sneaking out as soon as he could to go in search of Adrya. He was truly a fool in love.

Wynne sighed, taking a drink from her mug. She grimaced as she set it down. The ale here was swill, but it was all the inn had to offer and she needed a drink. Glancing over at Alistair again, taking in his distracted manner, she sighed again.

Yes, love was a wonderful thing, but it could also destroy. She just hoped that it wouldn't come to that. Neither Adrya nor Alistair could afford that and neither could Ferelden.


	2. Chapter 2

“I think that perhaps this was a bad idea.”

“Might I remind you that this was _your_ idea Leliana? I, personally, think that getting drunk is an _excellent_ idea.”

“Drink, yes. A puddle of ale on the floor? No.”

Adrya snorted into her ale. She would have preferred something stronger, but the tavern they were currently patronizing had the unlikely name of The Alehouse, and they served, well, ale. Maybe, she thought, they should go find a tavern named Dwarven Fire Whiskey. The thought made her giggle.

“You are drunk, my friend. You’re not one to giggle.”

“You've had just as much as I have Leliana,” Adrya accused. “Besides, I am not drunk. I am just pleasantly, pleasant.”

“And you make no sense when you’re drunk either,” Leliana grumbled. Of all the ideas she had ever had, this was admittedly not her best. The goal had been to cheer Adrya up, help her get her head together, not turn her into a looney drunk. It was only by the Maker’s grace that her friend didn’t get mean and belligerent when she drank.

Maker’s breath, she should have just let her pick a fight in one of Denerim’s filthy back alleys. No one would miss a few bandits.

The sun had long since set and Leliana was wondering how she was going to get Adrya back to the inn when the reason for their evening activities walked in the door, with Zevran trailing closely behind him, and if she wasn't mistaken, Ghost as well. Leliana was just thankful they were in a far, dark corner of the inn, far away from the barman.

“Hell and damnation,” Leliana muttered.

“You’re cursing Leliana, shame on you. A Chantry sister mustn’t curse,” Adrya scolded, wagging a finger at her friend.

“You must sober up quickly, my friend, for your troubles just walked in the door.”

Adrya turned a bleary eye toward the tavern door and felt the ale in her stomach go sour, and she did some cursing of her own.

“What in Andraste’s name are they doing here?”

“Looking for us, I am guessing. Why Zevran is with him is your best guess.”

“The old bat probably bribed him to accompany Alistair. Zevran can never resist a bit of the shiny.” Feeling much more sober than she had a few minutes ago, Adrya sank back into the shadows. She wasn’t ready to face Alistair, not yet. Maker help her, but she was acting like one of the ninny ladies that swarmed every castle with all their giggles and manufactured blushes, and she hated herself for it.

“What do you think our chances are of getting out of here without them seeing us?”

“Are you serious? Avoidance is not your usual tactic my friend.”

“In this case it is Leliana. So? Our chances?”

“With this crowd, very possible, but Alistair looks very determined, does he not? And Zevran looks just annoyed enough to help him in every way so he can get back to his gambling and whoring.”

“So, a distraction then? The back door is close enough.”

“They will probably expect that, but then, they would expect us to expect that, so yes, the back door.”

“I really hate it when you talk like that. I’m just drunk enough that I almost didn’t follow.”

“That is part of my charm, no? Keep quiet and in the shadows and wait for my signal.”

“What’s your signal?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” Leliana said with a saucy wink.

“Of course I will. Silly me.”

Adrya had to admire her friend’s loyalty and her willingness to put up with her bullshit. She knew she was acting like a child but she had to get her mind straight before she confronted the situation. Her father had taught her to have all the facts in hand before taking action, and that advice seemed all the more appropriate in this situation.

Why did relationships have to be so messy? Was theirs more so because it was doomed, according to Wynne, to not end well? Adrya sighed. Apparently she had reached the morose, self-pitying portion of the evening’s entertainment.

Halfway across the tavern, two sailors suddenly leapt up from their card game, each accusing the other of cheating. Adrya didn’t know how Leliana had accomplished it, but it was her cue to leave.

As she sidled against the wall toward the back exit, a rough hand grabbed her arm and she felt a sharp prick at her neck. Annoyed, and spurred by the need to get out of the tavern before Alistair spotted her, she tried to shrug out of the grip, but her movements were suddenly sluggish, like her limbs had turned to goo. A buzzing that had nothing to do with the ale filled her head. The last thing she remembered before the darkness closed in was a lightly accented voice whispering to her.

_“The Antivan Crows say hello.”_

  
**ooOOoo**   


Leliana was amused by the display but disappointed at the lack of challenge. Of course, ale-drenched sailors with twitchy tempers weren't much of a challenge but they had served their purpose.

Smirking, she routed around Alistair and Zevran as they consulted with the barman and slid through the tavern toward the back exit. She expected to see Adrya doing the same but instead the exit was empty except for shadows. Had her friend left without her? That wasn't like her.

Ducking out the door into the back alley, Leliana caught a silky shadow carrying a large bag over its shoulder. Leliana’s eyes narrowed and stepped out into the alley to intercept, but then the shadow lobbed a flashbang at her, masking his exit quite nicely as her eyes watered and burned.

“Hell and damnation.”

“A nice way of putting it, the merry chase the two of you have led us on this evening. Where is she?”

“A merry chase indeed, my friend, and such language from a Chantry sister. If all sisters swear as you do, perhaps I need to visit the Chantry soon,” Zevran chuckled.

“Firstly,” Leliana started tightly as she spun around. “I never took my vows, so I can swear as much as I damn well please, Maker curse you. Second, no one asked the two of you to follow us.”

“True enough, my red-haired beauty. This one came on his own volition. I was conscripted into service, as it seems I always am,” Zevran sighed. “Now that we have found our flown birds, perhaps we can enjoy a drink or three. All this hunting has made me thirsty.”

“You’ll not have a drop until we find Adrya.”

“And you’ll not find her unless we move quickly. I wish I was wrong but I am quite certain that someone has just taken her.”

“What the bloody hell do you mean ‘taken her’? Who took her?”

“I am afraid, my friend, that I know who, and the answer is not one you would like to hear.” Zevran stood from where he had suddenly knelt, twirling what looked like a black feather with its tip dipped in blood. Leliana paled, recognizing it for what it was.

“The Antivan Crows have her.”

“That’s not possible. We made a deal with them to leave us alone.”

“Ah, that is true, but this is not just any Antivan Crow, I am afraid. No, unless I am very much mistaken, Taliesin has taken it upon himself to fulfill the voided contract.”

“And just who is this Taliesin? And why wouldn't he honor the deal?”

“Taliesin is not just any Antivan Crow, my friend, but one of the most deadly, and that is saying something, believe me.”

“This can’t be. Adrya wouldn't let herself be taken.”

“Ah, but you forget my friend, that the Crows specialize in all manner of poisons and toxins. One small scratch or whiff, and you will wake up in the presence of the Maker...or tied up in the main square dressed like a nursemaid. In a way, we are fortunate, in another, well, we are not.”

“Speak plainly, Zevran. We’re wasting time.”

“What he means Alistair, is that this Taliesin’s forte is not a quick kill. He likes to, _play_ with his targets first.”

“It is true. There are many Crows who would just kill her and collect their money. Taliesin is different in many ways and that is why the Crows do not utilize him much anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Alistair asked, his voice tight in an attempt to remain calm. Ghost whined anxiously next to him, the Mabari’s keen senses picking up on the tension around him.

“Torture, Alistair. This Taliesin likes to torture his targets before killing them.”

Alistair visibly paled at Leliana’s words before his face hardened into a mask. It was a talent Leliana had noticed that he was starting to develop, one that she was sad to see.

“This would not have happened if you two had stayed at the inn. There is plenty of ale there if your intention for tonight was to drink.”

“Unbelievable. You dare try to blame this on me? It’s _your_ fault that Adrya felt she needed to leave in the first place.”

“And what in Andraste’s name is that supposed to mean?”

Realizing that she had been shouting, Leliana stepped back, attempting to draw from the well of peacefulness she had built while at the Chantry.

“That is not for me to say, Alistair. That is up to Adrya if she so chooses.”

“As fascinating as this is, we must move quickly if we are to find her.” Zevran didn’t say alive, but the implication was there. “My guess is that his lair, for want of a better word, is not too far from here. With the full moon tonight, he wouldn't be able to carry an unconscious woman very far without notice, even in this filthy corner of Denerim.”

“This is true. With the concentration of taverns in this area, he would be smart to set up his space nearby. If he’s as good as the rumors say, he would know that we traipse all throughout Denerim on one task or another and that most of our tasks revolve around this revolting area.”

“Yes, he would have little birds flying back and forth regarding our activities. All he had to do was wait. He may be completely mad, but Taliesin is nothing if not patient.”

“Then we must move quickly, yes? He must know that he does not have much time for his, games.”

“True enough. Thank the Maker we brought Ghost with us. He’ll find his mistress much faster than any of us could.”

Ghost let loose a soft growl of anticipation as they loped out of the alley, all of them praying that they would find the Warden before it was too late.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning here, this chapter is bloody and has some disturbing images.

Her first thought upon waking was that she was surprised to still be alive. The second was that if her brain didn’t stop expanding it was going to burst through her skull and leave an unholy mess everywhere.

What in Andraste’s name had happened? She remembered sitting in the tavern with Leliana; remembered, she thought sourly, the reason why they were there but she had no memory of leaving the tavern.

The room was dimly lit, a few flickering shadows from recessed sconces. There were no windows and for some reason that shot a spike of fear through her. It smelled slightly damp and of something else she couldn’t put a name to and wasn't sure that she wanted to.

Her arm sockets burned as she realized she was hanging by her arms, her feet barely able to touch the slippery floor. It didn’t feel like stone, more like some sort of metal. What in the Void was going on?

The shadows around her began to whisper, their words unintelligible no matter how hard she strained to discern what they were saying. A soft sigh of air ruffled over her and Adrya realized for the first time that her armor had been removed. All she wore was a light cotton undershirt and a pair of worn doeskin breeches that she wore under her armor.

Maybe it was time to be more than a little scared.

“Ah, I see that my little bird had finally awoken,” a disembodied voice slid through the air like warm silk, the accent decidedly Antivan. “I was beginning to worry that I had miscalculated my dosage. Silly of me, I know. I never miscalculate.”

“Who are -?”

Adrya barely got out the words before something snapped through the air. White-hot pain lanced through her thigh as the lash connected sliced through her breeches and then through her skin. The pain was so sudden, so unexpected, that she couldn’t help the startled gasp that burst out of her.

“That was for speaking out of turn. I would explain the rules to you but I find the purification to be more complete if you learn as we go.

“You wish to know who I am? That, my little bird is a very simple and yet very complex question. I am called Taliesin, proud member of the Antivan Crows, but those are just labels. To know one’s true self, well, that takes time and various techniques to bring out the true self. Sadly, even though I possess several techniques, we do not have as much time as I would wish but we shall try to learn as much as we can in the time we are provided, yes?”

Adrya’s mind reeled. Her last moments at the tavern suddenly came back to her; drugged and kidnapped with what looked to be a tortuous death to look forward to. Great. Alistair was going to kill her.

The lash struck again, kissing her other thigh. Adrya couldn’t help the hiss of pain that escaped through her clenched jaw. The last thing she wanted to do was to give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing her screams but she wasn't sure how long it would be before she let out more than just a hiss.

She didn’t know which was worse, the actual lashing or not being able to see it when it came.

“That is for not paying attention. Shame, and here I thought that Grey Wardens were disciplined warriors.”

“Untie me and I’ll show you just how disciplined this Grey Warden is,” she growled, knowing that she would receive another lash, but didn’t care. She would use the pain, use it so that it worked for her instead of against her. Adrya tried to hold onto that as the lash struck two, then three times more, each on a different part of her body. Blood soaked through her clothing, dripping onto the floor beneath her. Pain she could take certainly, but a person could only loose so much blood.

Her captor seemed to agree with her as he spoke next. “I see that should perhaps use a blunter object to begin with. I sense a will within you that would outlast every drop of blood I bleed from your body. A pity we do not have more time,” he sighed with deep regret.

The cranking of machinery filled the small room as her arms were pulled up, raising her body up even more. Disorientation blurred within her as she desperately tried to find her footing but failed. Her arms burned even more under the burden of her weight. Whatever contraption had lifted her up kept her suspended barely an inch above the floor. She could sense it underneath her, just beyond her reach.

She had just managed to find a fragile balance when a fist punched into her stomach. Tiny lights burst behind her eyes as another fist snapped at her face. The backhand that followed was almost a love tap compared to the first two blows, but the following ones alternated between those taps and something heavier.

Adrya couldn’t get her balance in more ways than one. She had been in pain before, had been injured, but this was different. Control had been taken away from her. Again. The last time she had felt like this had been that last awful night at home in Highever. Unbidden tears escaped past her lashes and she prayed that the darkness hid them from her captor.

Only two blows had hit her face but she could already feel it swelling. Blood pooled in her mouth and she spit it out weakly; even that small action brought pain searing through her body.

Focus, she ordered herself. Focus.

She felt him behind her. Could feel his warm, sticky breath on her neck. She felt his hand, curiously cool against her skin; a light, feathery touch before he gripped her shirt collar and ripped it downward, leaving the torn ends to waft at her sides. The cool blade of a knife scaled up her spine, causing her to shuddered involuntarily. He chuckled at this as he slipped the tip underneath the edge of her breastband, then rending that too from her body.

“If one were less observant than I, one would not believe that you have seen battle, not with as white and smooth as the skin of your back is.” A hand trailed down her spine and back up again. Adrya nearly choked on the bile that rose within her and tried valiantly to suppress the whimper that wanted to escape.

“I think that we shall have to remedy that before we go any further. What? Did you fear something else? No, no, no, my little bird. I would not debase myself like that. I take my pleasure in, other ways.”

Adrya felt him move away, her brain working furiously to figure out what he meant. He mind was slowly becoming fogged with pain despite her efforts to shut it out. There wasn't a finger's breadths; width of space that didn’t hurt.

The snap of the lash chilled right through her. He had changed his mind then. He wanted her to bleed. Why didn’t he just end it already?

“Do you always play with your food, Taliesin? I thought that assassins were supposed to work quickly.”

“That is true enough of most assassins but in my case, no. I find that, playing with my food, as you call it, makes the whole course that much sweeter. Each Crow had their own specialty.”

“I worked a deal with the guild. The contract was voided.”

A hand gripped her hair and roughly yanked her head back. She could feel tendons pop and snap with the force he used.

“Not by me. No contract is ever voided.” He slammed her head forward so that her chin bounced off her chest as he moved away from her.

“Not one for playing by the rules, are you?”

When the lash fell this time, it was not like the ones from before. This was like having an acid covered blade sink into her skin and slay it open. Her scream ripped from her throat, echoing against the walls.

“Ah, there you are. It is always the matter of finding the right tool and using it in the right manner. And no, I do not. Rules are not for Crows, especially this one. But enough talking; your lessons have now truly begun.”

Her captor counted aloud each lash as it landed, his voice seeming to echo in her brain. She made it to fourteen before oblivion finally took her.


	4. Chapter 4

“This is taking too long. It’s been nearly two hours. She could be dead by now.”

“For a Fereldan, you have a disturbing lack of faith in your Mabaris. Even in Antiva, we have heard of them. Ghost here is bonded with our Adrya. What better way to track her down than her most loyal friend I ask you?”

Alistair gave an acknowledging grunt but couldn’t help but worry that time was running short. The longer Adrya was this Taliesin’s prisoner, the lower her chances were and that thought sat like a wormy mass in his gut. He knew the dangers they faced by being Grey Wardens, but in no reality would he have imagined this.

“I do believe, Zevran, that Alistair here is now wishing that he had let Adrya kill you rather than accept you into our merry band of misfit warriors. Tis my belief that we would still be here even if she had killed you,” drawled Morrigan, her tone laced with its usual derision, but there was no real strength behind it.

“You’re not helping, Morrigan. You managed to find us in this sewer; perhaps you can use your witchy talents to help find Adrya.” In time, Alistair thought to himself, trying not to panic, finding her in time. The mage merely tossed her hair back in response.

“As I have told all of you when we met, my life or death, be as that may, is incidental to the contracts the Crows made with Loghain," Zevran said, responding to Morrigan's catty remark. "Yes, yes, we made a better offer to the Crows, but some Crows, like Taliesin, disregard such things.”

“Why do you say this Zevran? One assassin is the same as another, no? Their one goal is to kill their target.”

“Normally you would be right, my dark-haired beauty, but Taliesin is... different. We were friends once, and more, but something has changed in him in the last few years. I could not say what, but even some of my former brothers fear him. He has become, unstable, as of late according to the rumors that have come to my handsome ears. The rumors say that he is swiftly becoming a liability to the Crows, and that he is quick on his way to retirement.”

“Retirement? Tis an odd way of stating that the Crows will have one of their own killed.”

“In most organizations, you would be correct, my lovely, but the Crows are not like most organizations.”

“If you spent as much time searching as you do flirting, Zevran, we would have found her by now,” Alistair grumbled.

“Finding Taliesin’s trail is not like tracking Darkspawn, sadly. But have faith in our Mabari friend here. Once he finds the scent, we should find her quickly.”

At those words, Ghost let out a dread howl and took off down an alley. The group was hard pressed to keep up with him.

“All I can say is that he had better have Adrya’s scent and not some flea-ridden cat,” Alistair growled even as a twinge of hope sparked.

**ooOOoo**

Icy water flooded over her body, bringing Adrya to partial awareness. The bitter taste of an elfroot potion tainted her lips. She was still strung up, hanging limply by the shackles that bound her. Her body was too weak even with the slight infusion of the health potion to do more than attempt to bring her sagging legs under her.

Taliesin must have lowered her down, as she was able to feel the metal floor underneath her once again. Having even her toes resting on the floor relieved some of the stress on her shoulders but it caused the lacerated skin on her back to boil with new fire as the blood-crusted wounds cracked and fresh blood began seeping down her spine.

She vaguely wondered how long Taliesin had kept whipping her after she passed out.

“Three more times my lash landed, just to be sure,” he said as if reading her mind. “Not that I would suspect a Grey Warden such as yourself to feign unconsciousness but one never knows, do they?”

Adrya could hear him moving around her and realized that the room was gradually becoming brighter. Lantern light filled the basement until it began to hurt her eyes. The sudden bringing of light worried her. It could mean nothing good.

“I have decided that it is time for me to view my work and decide if more is needed or if my work is complete.”

“What? Do you consider what you do art? I doubt that I would make a good show piece.”

Hard fingers gripped her jaw, jerking her head upward, allowing her to see her captor for the first time. Adrya didn’t know what she had expected and really didn’t know what to think of the man standing in front of her. He was a strange combination of nondescript and handsome at the same time. He could be anyone on the street, or no one. His eyes were like still pools of amber, and she had a feeling that nothing rippled the madness she saw there. It was more terrifying than any darkspawn she had met.

“Oh, but you see, you _are_ art. I just wish that I had the talent and patience to paint, so that I could share your radiance. But it is no matter. I have little doubt that any painting of you as you are would fail to stand up to the images I will carry with me in my mind. You are, in truth my dear Warden, exquisite.”

“I think you’re definition of exquisite and mine differ.”

Taliesin tossed back his head, roaring with laughter. “Oh, I like you. Truly. Such spirit. After our journey this night, you continue to defy me. It is truly remarkable. Pity it must end so soon.”

“We shall see about that. You really shouldn’t have given me any of that elfroot potion.”

With a sudden strength drawn from deep reserves, Adrya wrapped her hands around the chains holding her, using them as a fulcrum to pull herself up and hook her legs around Taliesin’s neck. The man spun, trying to escape the leg lock but all he accomplished was to give her a better angle. She didn’t care where the rush of adrenalin and strength came from, all she knew was that she wasn't going to let this crazy bastard kill her if she could help it.

Even though it cost her, even though the movement ripped her wounds open further, Adrya tightened her grip around his neck. She hooked one leg around his neck while using the other to tighten the vise-like grip, enveloping his head and neck with sinewy thighs.

Was she imagining it, or could she feel his pulse beating frantically against her skin? His hands dug furrows into her legs, tearing at her doeskin breeches but she did not relent.

She did not dare to.

Minutes passed but she did not relent. Even though pain lanced through her body, her vision going white, she did not relent.

Even when she felt him sagging, gasping for air, she did not relent. His body hung limply from her leg-lock, motionless, the frantic pulse gone, but she held on. As her vision faded from white to black, she held on as the exhaustion and pain overtook her.

But even strength, adrenaline and determination could only last so long. Reluctantly, she let him go, his body crashing to the floor. Spent, her legs dropped soon after. Her arm muscles quivered and then spasmed as the rest of her body fell limp. Despite the fact that her feet could now touch the floor, she didn’t have the strength to stand on her under her own power.

She would rest, she decided, just for a little bit; then she would figure out how to get out of the basement.

All her senses were distorted and she vaguely recognized it as her body shutting down bit by bit. Adrya tried, foolishly, to stand, but there was nothing left. She had put all her remaining energy into killing Taliesin. Letting out a hysterical laugh, Adrya realized that she couldn’t tell if he was all dead or only mostly dead.

If only she could have held on for just a few seconds more, just to be sure.

By now even the pain had receded. There was nothing, just the dim awareness of the light flickering against the walls and a strange wind echoing around her. Maybe it was the Maker, come to take her home. Maybe he hadn’t turned his eye from Fereldan after all.

Too bad she wasn't sure she believed in the Maker.

The noise of the wind grew louder and she found herself wishing it away. All she wanted to do was sink into oblivion and stay there. The incessant wind kept her treading the surface.

If she had one regret, it was that she hadn’t told Alistair, truly told him, that she loved him.

She suddenly felt light, all the strain lifted from her body. Warmth flooded back; so much so that she didn’t realize how cold she had been.

“Maker preserve us, what did he do to you?”

Adrya thought that it was odd that the Maker would refer to himself in the third person, but she supposed that the Maker could do whatever he pleased, being the Maker and all.

It was a struggle, but she managed to open her eyes. Golden light suffused around the figure hovering above her, and it was an amazing, beautiful sight to see. It was as if the Maker, even though she doubted, was granting her a last wish, to resolve her one regret.

“Alistair,” she whispered reverently. “Alistair, I love you.” With those words, darkness enveloped her like a warm embrace, as if welcoming her home.


	5. Chapter 5

“Well, now I know she’s lost her mind, whereas before I thought she had a lapse in judgment. Only someone who had lost her mind would love Alistair.”

“Morrigan, I beg you, now is not the time for your tongue. I cannot believe she is alive after all this. Maker preserve us.”

“Tis not some distant, absent god that will help her, Leliana. I have some poultices, which may be enough to stop some of the bleeding. My skills lie elsewhere than healing. We will have to move her.”

Alistair could hear his companions, but they were a distant buzz behind him. The basement was an abattoir. Blood splattered across the walls and coated the floor. The floor directly under her was some type of metal platform that had a three-inch deep channel running around its edges. Blood pooled in that channel. Adrya’s blood.

His heart had stopped when they had burst into the basement and saw her hanging by the chains. What remained of her clothing hung in bloody rags around her. Even Morrigan had been uncharacteristically silent upon entering. Ghost sat next to him, whining softly, occasionally nosing at Adrya’s cheek.

He brushed back her bloody hair, revealing a battered face. A murderous rage burst within him. It was an unfamiliar feeling but he grasped onto it. The alternative was despair.

“Alistair, you must let her go.”

“Never,” was the answer that erupted past his lips. Reverently he bowed his head against hers, trying to separate her scent from that of the blood and gore that painted her body. Hers was unique, and he wanted to smell it one last time.

“Alistair, she still lives, but we must treat her wounds and get her out of here.” Gentle hands pried at his, slowly loosened his grip on Adrya.

“She said she loved me Leliana. Is that true? Is that why she felt she had to leave the inn earlier? Is this my fault?” Alistair stared hard into Leliana’s green eyes, searching for an answer.

“No, Alistair, this is not your fault. What I said earlier was said in anger and fear. No one is at fault here, no one but Loghain and this, this _person_. But this is a conversation for later, yes? We must get her back to the inn where Wynne can properly treat her but first you must let her go.”

Alistair reluctantly loosened his hold and gently laid her down. He was drenched in her blood and could smell the faint tinge of darkspawn blood blended with hers. Looking down at her, her realized that he loved her more than he could possibly conceive, but that he was ultimately powerless to protect her as he wished. That helplessness fueled the bubbling anger within him.

“Can you remove these shackles from her?” he asked Leliana who only gave a derisive snort.

Rising to his feet, Alistair walked over to the body that Zevran squatted next to. The elf assassin wore an inscrutable expression as Alistair approached.

“It is Taliesin, just as I thought. How she managed to survive, how she managed to kill him, that is a question for the Maker my friend.”

“So he is dead then.”

“Unbelievably, yes. Just goes to prove how formidable our leader is.”

Alistair kicked the body onto its back. A ring of bruises marked his neck. Zevran was right; Adrya had accomplished something unbelievable considering the predicament she had been in. Shackled, beaten, and tortured, she had still managed to kill this unassuming man.

Pulling out his sword, Alistair sliced it through the air, cleanly severing the head from its body. Wiping the blood off on the man’s shirt, he met Zevran’s questioning eyes.

“Just for good measure. You can never be too sure.”

He saw a ghost of a smile rise on Zevran’s lips before he turned back to Adrya. They had rolled her on her side, her auburn hair now shrouding her face.

“Is she okay to move? I want to be clear of this place.”

“She is as ready as we can make her. We can do nothing more here. The old woman will be able to do more once we get her back.”

Alistair moved to pick her up, determined that no one had that duty but him. Leliana stayed his arm, or tried to.

“Maker’s breath, Alistair, be gentle. Her wounds are very fragile.”

“And you might want to cover her with something you fool. In case you haven’t noticed, she _is_ nearly naked. She’ll not thank you for parading her through Denerim in naught but bloody rags.”

Alistair growled at them, knowing they were right, but annoyed with the delay. Tearing Morrigan’s cloak off her and ignoring her screech of protest, he wrapped it around Adrya, taking care no to jostle her wounds too much. More than ever could he care less what Morrigan thought; he had only one priority right then.

“Let’s go.”

Almost not caring if they followed, Alistair lifted Adrya up and took them out of the bloody basement, leaving the assassin’s body to rot in his own chamber.

**ooOOoo**

For the second time that night, Adrya awoke surprised to find herself alive. The difference this time being that a soft light suffused the room around her and she felt a warm, soft bed underneath her. She would have thought that she really was dead and was now travelling the Fade if not for the fact that her entire body hurt. It was not the fierce fire from before, but it was sharp enough to pull her out of the deep slumber she had been in. Even dreams had not followed her there.

She must have groaned or made some noise, for she felt a smooth, cool hand touch her forehead. Opening her eyes was about all she could manage, and barely that as it was.

“Welcome back. It is good to see you. You had us very worried for a while.”

Adrya tried to speak, but found her lips too dry to make any words.

“No, don’t try to speak just yet. Here, have an ice chip; it will help with the dryness. I do not dare give you anything more at the moment,” Wynne said, slipping the sliver of ice between Adrya’s parched and dried lips.

When she was able to move her mouth more easily, one word whispered through her lips.

“How?”

“How did we find you? Through determination and a great deal of luck. We are lucky that war hound of yours is so attached to you and that Alistair is such a fool over you. He went after you as soon as he could.

“Where?”

“Oh, he’s passed out just over there. I may have slipped a sleeping draught into his ale. Not very noble of me but the boy was driving all of us to distraction and he needed to sleep as well. He’s refused to leave your side since they found you.”

Adrya tried to speak again but found herself drifting off. She managed a weak glare and saw Wynne smile softly at her.

“Oh dear. It seems as if some sleeping draught made its way into your ice chips. I really must be more careful.”

Adrya couldn’t work up the energy to be annoyed with Wynne. In truth, she was a bit grateful, although she would never admit it to the mage. All she wanted was relief from the pain and to slip into dreamless oblivion.

**ooOOoo**

Gentle light flickered in the room the next time she awoke. It was full dark outside, but the lantern light emitted a soft glow that made her feel safe. Her vision was clearer this time, the haziness nearly gone. Her back itched something fierce. Lying on her stomach as she was, she felt the night air lightly caress her skin, cooling it, but it didn’t relieve the itch.

She started to move when she noticed the figure sitting next to her bed, his head buried in his arms and one hand tightly gripped hers. His hair stood up in spikes as if he had run his hands through it a thousand times.

“Alistair.”

Her mouth was still dry but she managed to get that one word out. At the sound, he snapped upright in the chair and focused bleary eyes on hers. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes, and the pain, and was sorry for it, knowing that she had a part in putting it there.

“Well, hello beautiful. You have no idea how glad I am to see you awake. That cursed Wynne, she drugged me. Something about me being in the way.” There was just enough incredulity in his voice to make Adrya smile even though the action made her inwardly grimace.

“You probably were. You can be a bit of a mother hen,” she whispered, drinking him in. There had been a moment in that basement, several actually, that she thought she would never see him again. “I don’t exactly feel beautiful at the moment.”

“I suppose that’s true. I’m sorry my dear, but you do smell a bit rank.”

“It's very rude you know to tell a lady that she smells bad.”

“I apologize my dear, that _was_ rather rude of me. That's what happens when you're raised by wild dogs I'm afraid.”

Silence fell between them as he reached over to brush an errant strand of hair off her face. His touch was most welcome and more healing than any potion or magic that Wynne could conjure.

“Is this okay? I mean, I’m not hurting you am I?”

“No Alistair, you’re not hurting me. In fact, your touch is the best thing I've felt in a while.”

What sounded suspiciously like a relieved sob escaped past his lips. His head lowered to rest gently on her forehead, his warm breath sinking into her skin like a healing balm. Yes, much better than any potion.

“You had me so scared. If you ever try to die on me again, I will be so furious with you. I’ll have Wynne bring you back just so I can give you a good spanking,” he said but no real rancor filled his voice, only relief.

“I’m sorry Alistair.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Well, maybe one thing, but that Antivan bastard is not one of them. _He’s_ the one who should be sorry, or would be, if he was alive that is.”

“So he is dead then? I wasn't sure. I held on for as long as I could, but I was too weak.”

“You were strong enough to strangle him while manacled to the ceiling, a feat I’d be interested to know how you managed, but he is dead. I cut off his head just to be sure though.”

“You did what?” Adrya started to rise up from the bed, only to be gently pushed down. If she weren't so weak she’d be annoyed with how easily he managed to keep her lying down.

“You are to stay in bed, Wynne’s orders. I don’t care to face her if you disturb your wounds. And yes, to answer your question, I did. It seemed like the thing to do at the time. Zevran was some what amused by it.”

“He would be,” Adrya murmured, her mind sifting through his words, suddenly striking on something he said. “What do you mean that I have one thing to apologize for? You said I was not to blame for what happened.”

“And you aren't. But I do blame you for waiting until you were near dead before you told me you loved me. Some things should not be left to a deathbed confession.”

“I said that? I thought it was the Maker, giving me a chance to fix my one regret.”

“Nope, just me. Sorry to disappoint. You flatter me though,” he paused, his amber-brown eyes narrowing in an unnerving calmness. “So, is what you said true? Or was it the ramblings of a near dead woman?”

Adrya stared back at him, his face mere inches from hers. She wanted to trace every curve and line of his face, to burn it into her memory.

“Yes, I did. I love you, truly. I’m just sorry that I couldn’t say it sooner. I was afraid but the reasons seem so stupid now.”

“And they don’t matter. I knew that you did, knew it in my heart, but to hear you say it, and in a lucid state; well, you know.”

“I know.”

Adrya turned to her side slightly, wanting to get a better look at him. She raised her free hand to his face, cupping her palm over his cheek. Alistair placed his own hand over hers, turning his head slightly to place a soft kiss on the inside of her palm.

“I should let you rest. Wynne will skin me if I overtax you.” He started to pull away, but stopped at her surprisingly strong grip.

“No. Please. Please stay. I know that I will rest easier with you here.”

Alistair nodded, settling himself back into the chair, but again, Adrya protested.

“No. I want you next to me. I want, _need_ , your arms around me.”

“But your wounds-.”

“Are inconsequential to the fact that I need you beside me. If I've learned anything from this experience, it’s to take advantage of every moment we have together.”

“Alright,” he said slowly. “Move over, but carefully, and you’ll stay on your side. I’ll not have you tear your bandages.”

Facing each other, their hands entwined together, they both found the peace that had eluded them up until now.

“I love you, Adrya, have I told you that?”

“Yes, Alistair, you have. And I love you too, don’t forget that.”

“Not bloody likely.”

Adrya drifted off to sleep, safe in the knowledge that the man she loved would be there for her when she needed him. And also that love was not a thing to be feared, but cherished.


End file.
